Rainbow Six: SPECWAR
by Admiral
Summary: An act of piracy in the South China Sea throws Chavez and his team into dangerous waters. COMPLETE!
1. Hot Pursuit

**Disclaimer:** _"Rainbow Six" and all related characters are the sole property of Rubicon, Inc. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. All original characters and situations are the sole property of the author and may not be used or archived without express permission._

**Author's Note:** If you want something done right…

**Rainbow Six:**

**SPECWAR**

**by Darrin A. Colbourne**

Hahmed Peshawar was having a bad day. This wasn't a surprise to him. His life seemed to have become one long bad day ever since he'd taken this job. The money was important, of course. It would someday help to fund a resurgence of the cause. Until then, however, he was forced to take money from ignorant opium lords and spend his days ferrying intoxicating drugs to weak, foolish infidels. He was performing that task--transporting shipments of opium to destinations on and around the Malay Peninsula--when this particular day went sour. Now, he found himself on a speeding cabin cruiser with six of his compatriots, trying to outrun the Singaporean Coast Guard's Fast Patrol Boats. They were weaving through the shipping traffic off the Singapore Coast as the Patrol Boats worked to cut them off and bring them to heel.

No man in Peshawar's crew wanted to be caught, least of all by the authorities of the small city-state. Singapore was notoriously hard on its criminals, a policy necessitated by the fact that the nation was one of the major commercial hubs in Asia. A country willing to cane a pampered American youth for spray-painting a few letters on a wall would have no compunction about tossing a Libyan former "freedom fighter" into the deepest darkest dungeon for eternity, or at least something close to it.

He watched carefully as they sped through transports of various types. The Singaporeans were making their move. Soon two of the patrol craft would be able to cut them off, leaving them trapped while the rest swarmed in. To beat these odds he needed a plan that they could execute on the fly. When he saw a container ship nearby, a plan formed in his mind. He rushed to the pilothouse to talk to the helmsman.

"That way!" Lt. Trahn of the Coast Guard Patrol Boat 15333 said. They'd almost lost the drug smugglers when the target boat made a wild turn into a group of fishing boats. Trahn anticipated the move, and was able to redirect the patrol force to reform the trap. The smugglers ended up behind a container ship that was just headed out to sea.

15333 gunned it and darted for the bow of the container ship as the other patrol craft closed in. The container ship looked just like any other, a massive, long-hulled ship piled high with boxy, metal containers, but her markings designated her as one of the fleet of a British shipping company. Trahn made a mental note of her indentifying characteristics as his boat passed her bow.

As the patrol boat turned to cruise down the ship's massive flank, Trahn spotted the harbor tug that was positioned to nudge the container ship in the right direction to exit into the South China Sea. He expected to and did see the cabin cruiser he was chasing ensconced behind it, as if that would hide it from the authorities for very long.

Then the unexpected hit him like a ton of bricks.

The smugglers weren't trying to hide the cabin cruiser. They'd taken over the tug. Two of the criminals were on the smaller ship's deck, using members of the crew as human shields. Each was armed with AK-74 assault rifles. Four other criminals were climbing up ropes that had been thrown over the side of the ship. They were armed with rifles as well. The two smugglers on the deck were shouting something at the Coast Guardsmen while they brandished the guns and held their hostages in chokeholds. One of them tried to operate his rifle one-handed and fired an ineffectual burst in the direction of Trahn's boat.

The gunners in Trahn's crew were setting up on the deck of the boat as the other patrol boats in pursuit started to close up on the scene. The smugglers on the tug started waving their guns and shouting at those boats as well, as their compatriots continued to climb up the side of the container ship.

"I've got a shot!" One of his shooters called out. "We can take the ones on the ropes!" Trahn could see that, but he could also see that the ones on the tug were holding their weapons clumsily, and it wouldn't take much for them to shoot them off and do serious damage to their hostages, either by design or by accident.

"Hold your fire!" He commanded, then to the helmsman: "Come about! Match the container ship's course and speed!" They were starting to drift away from the action. He wondered why the master of the ship hadn't stopped already. He may not be able to see the boarders climbing onto his deck from the bridge, but surely someone or something might have alerted him to the patrol boats crowding him. Then it occurred to Trahn that the man might have noticed and decided to press ahead anyway. He wasn't violating any Laws of Navigation as far as he knew, and he had a delivery schedule to keep. Unless the Coast Guard formally ordered him to stand to, he would press on to open waters.

That order would be given. Trahn contacted the boat nearest the fantail and tasked its commander to find out the name of the ship after he told the other officer what company it belonged to. Then he had a conference with all the other boats (three besides his own) and together the commanders came up with a plan. After the ship was brought to a halt the Coast Guard would form up on the tug and try to force it away. The movements of the ships would leave the would-be boarders stuck, forced to hold tight to the ropes as the big ship slowed, while their compatriots were stuck on a small, barely defensible craft, disoriented by the movements of the two vessels and the loss of their partners. It was a gamble, but all they could manage on such short notice.

It didn't go quite the way Trahn hoped. The ship, now identified as the MV East India Lines _Majestic_, was ordered to slow to a stop. This was accomplished within a minute--she wasn't going all that fast--and the boarders found themselves dangling for their lives with only a half-meter or so between them and the container ship's deck. Meanwhile, the tug got hit by a swell from the Majestic's bow wake, forcing it away from the big ship's hull and causing it to list. The smugglers and hostages on the transom lost their balance and went down. The tug crewmen recovered first. Both of them ran for the side and dove into the harbor. The tug, still running at cruising speed and free of its burden, slid away from Majestic's bow.

The patrol boats stormed in, armed men on each deck and each 5-inch gun mount loaded. One slid in under the smugglers hanging off Majestic. Trahn's boat stopped to pick up the two swimming seamen. That left the last two to close on the tug.

The seamen on the patrol boat under the climbing smugglers shouted orders to them in Mandarin, German and English, telling them in no uncertain terms that they should drop their weapons into the sea and come down, or they'd be fired upon. For a moment it looked like they'd comply. The two men on the lower parts of the ropes unslung their weapons one-handed…then fired them at the patrol boat. The vulnerable shooters dove for whatever cover they could find. One was hit in the shoulder as he piled back into the boat. Meanwhile, the other two smugglers climbed as fast as they could to get onto the deck. Once there, they provided suppressing fire for their friends while they climbed up. Soon all of them were aboard the merchant vessel, while the patrol boat peeled away so her crew could regroup.

The boats advancing on the tug got a similar response. The two smugglers on deck, free of their human burdens, fired with abandon on the Coast Guardsmen. The Singaporeans fired back, dropping one and forcing the other to flee back into the tug. It wasn't until one of the windows in the pilothouse broke that the Singaporeans realized there was a seventh smuggler. He introduced himself by showering the two Coast Guard boats with bullets from an M-16 assault rifle.

Trahn watched these events in horror. "Get them below! Get them below!!" He screamed at his crew. He wanted the tug's seamen belowdecks as soon as possible so he could back up the other boats. He glanced at the hull of the Majestic just before he gave the order to assist the boat trying to subdue the climbers. "Shit!" He said in Mandarin as he realized he was too late.

Four smugglers were running along the ship's deck, heading for the superstructure aft of the cargo. For a fleeting moment, Trahn had hope that the captain might be smart enough to seal the structure off. That hope was dashed when he saw two of the merchie's seamen heading down the deck from the superstructure, probably sent by their captain to see what the hell was going on. They were headed right for the smugglers, who were now running double-time after potential hostages.

"Go back!!" Trahn screamed at the merchant seamen, then realized they probably couldn't tell what he was saying. He rushed to get his bullhorn and tried again. "Go back!! Get into the superstructure and close it off!!"

That got their attention, but it didn't make them go back. Instead, they stopped dead and turned their attention to Trahn's boat, then started to take in the entire scene, with the rapt attention any human being would pay to a traffic accident on a major highway.

It gave the smugglers just enough time. They started shouting at the seamen when they were in point blank range. That made the two civilians recognize the danger, and they started to run back to the superstructure. The smugglers fired over their heads, causing them to dive for the deck. Before the two men could get up and run again the smugglers were on them.

Trahn gritted his teeth as he watched the smugglers drag the seamen to the superstructure. He brought up his binoculars and looked at the structure itself. Of course. Now they started to button up! The smugglers could see that, too, and dragged their hostages to a part of the deck where they'd be visible to the bridge. They shouted orders at the bridge, indicating a hatch at deck level where one of their men was waiting. They threatened the hostages, trying to show that if the crew didn't open up they'd have two dead comrades. The captain relented. Trahn watched as the hatch opened and the men rushed inside.

By now, all the Coast Guard ships had pulled back. The Singaporeans had no doubt that soon the merchant vessel would be under the control of the four smugglers that made it to the ship. The others already had control of the tug, which was now chugging out to sea. Suddenly, _Majestic_'s diesel engines started up again, and the big ship started to move, brushing aside the cabin cruiser the authorities had been after in the first place and making its own way to sea.

A routine drug takedown had suddenly turned into two hostage crises, one of which would require better resources than the pursuit force had at hand. Trahn made the call back to his station to apprise his superiors of the situation and request back-up and instructions. Something had to be done before either craft made it into the South China Sea.


	2. New Territory

**Disclaimer:** _"Rainbow Six" and all related characters are the sole property of Rubicon, Inc. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. All original characters and situations are the sole property of the author and may not be used or archived without express permission._

**Rainbow Six:**

**SPECWAR**

**by Darrin Colbourne**

The call that woke Domingo Chavez up at One A.M. surprised him more because of its content than its timing. As the leader of Rainbow, Team Two, which was currently the alert team at Hereford, he'd come into the job knowing he might be summoned to Rainbow's Headquarters at all hours of the day night. The odd thing was that such a call hadn't come in months. The world's terrorist community had seemed to have gotten the hint so well after the "First War of the Twenty-First Century" that his "two weeks on-alert, two weeks off" rotation had turned into one long training session. He hadn't minded that a bit. The training while "on-alert" was light to avoid injuring personnel that might be called to action, so it gave him more time and energy to spend with Patsy, his wife, and John Conor, his son, who'd taken his first tentative steps just a few days before (Exactly three, after which he promptly introduced his face to the living room carpet).

Chavez knew it had been too good to last. Once again, someone out in the world had decided that fanaticism and death threats were the keys to getting what they wanted from their enemies. It was his job to show them the error of their ways, but he couldn't help wishing that they'd let him get his full eight hours before they'd made their latest bid for power.

He entered Unit Headquarters wearing his day uniform of green fatigues. John Clark, Rainbow's founder and Commanding Officer, was in his office with his Executive Officer, Alistair Stanley. Both men were dressed in casual civilian clothes, but Stanley looked more rested, having been on Night Watch when the call came in. Clark did his best to hide it, but Chavez had worked with him long enough to recognize when the man was fighting sleep.

"Morning, Ding." Clark said when his son-in-law came in. "How'd you sleep?"

"Best two hours I ever had, Mr. C." Chavez said. That earned him a couple of chuckles from the older men in the office. Clark went to make Chavez a cup of coffee to help him wake up.

"How's Young John, Domingo?" Stanley asked. "Has he done any more marching lately?"

"Not yet," Chavez said as he took the mug from Clark, "but eventually he'll be outrunning the rest of us on the training ground." He smiled at that before he took a sip of the coffee. "Pretty Good. So…what's happening in the world?"

Clark nodded to Stanley and sat on the edge of his desk as his "Second" briefed Chavez. "About an hour ago our watchstanders in the Communications Room caught a news story that was being picked up by the major international news agencies. A British-flagged cargo ship and a harbor tug were hijacked this morning as they were pulling out of port in Singapore. The hijackers are apparently smugglers who were intercepted running drugs to various parts of South Asia. They took the tug to avoid capture, and then used gear they found aboard to board the cargo ship. The local Coast Guard tried to mount a rescue, but they had a bad time of it."

"How many bad guys?" Chavez said.

"Six at last count. A seventh was downed in the firefight with the Singaporeans."

"Hostages?"

"Twenty-nine total, four on the tug. Two of the tug's sailors managed to get off and get picked up by the authorities." The intercom buzzed as Stanley finished.

"Clark." Rainbow Six said as he pressed the button.

"Communications on the line for you, Sir." His secretary's voice said. Clark picked up the phone.

"Go ahead." He said. Stanley went on as Clark listened.

"The Singaporean and British governments have been in constant contact for the past hour. It's likely that we'll be getting an official go-ahead soon."

"That means I'd better shake my people loose, then." Chavez said as Clark hung up.

"Okay, new development." Clark said. "The bad guys from the tug managed to transfer over to the container ship, and they took two hostages with them. The tug has veered off and is headed for safe waters."

"So, good news, two less hostages to worry about," Chavez said, "bad news, the opposition is consolidating it's forces. I'm gonna need info on the container ship and any information we can get on who hijacked her."

"We've got David working on it now." Stanley said. David Peled was Rainbow's intelligence expert.

Just then the buzzer sounded again. "Yes?" Clark said when he hit the button.

"Whitehall on the line, Sir." The secretary said.

The three men looked at each other, then Clark said "Thank you." and picked up the phone. "Clark…Yes, Sir…Yes we have, Sir…we'll get everything moving as soon as possible. Yes? I understand." With that Clark hung up. "You have a 'go'." He said to Chavez. "The Singaporean Foreign Minister made a formal request for the services of Rainbow, and the British Foreign Minister is putting himself on record as making a similar one."

Stanley checked his watch. "We can have you on a flight out of Heathrow leaving in forty minutes." He said. "The next one is an hour and ten minutes later."

"When you get to Singapore," Clark said, "your liaison with the local authorities will be Colonel Sam-Ho Rok of the Republic of Singapore Navy."

Chavez's eyebrow cocked at that. "Two questions: One, I always thought squids were partial to Captains." He gave Clark a lopsided grin.

Clark smiled back as he explained. "American squids are. The Singaporean Navy uses groundpounder ranks."

Chavez nodded. "Okay, then Two: Why the Navy at all? I figured we'd be talking to their Coasties."

Stanley took this one. "You would be, if the battle area were still inside Singaporean territory. As of now, the Merchant Vessel _Majestic_ is in international waters, steaming into the South China Sea at twelve knots."

Chavez's face changed at that, grew more serious. "Something new and horrible every time." He said. "That's why I love my job. I've got to get my people moving."


	3. War Council

**Disclaimer:** _"Rainbow Six" and all related characters are the sole property of Rubicon, Inc. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. All original characters and situations are the sole property of the author and may not be used or archived without express permission._

**Rainbow Six:**

**SPECWAR**

**by Darrin Colbourne**

Chavez's team, now dressed in business suits, had a long flight ahead of them. They made it to Heathrow five minutes early and the British Airways flight left on time. Once the Airbus A340 was in the air and flying level, Chavez and his team sergeant, Eddie Price, opened their laptops and began going over the information David Peled had provided for them before they left, conversing in hushed tones.

"Okay," Chavez said as he called up the information, "here's the stuff on the container ship. Merchant Vessel _Majestic_, East India Shipping Lines, British registry. 620 feet long, 95 feet wide, 54,000 tons fully loaded, crew of twenty-five, max speed of 18 knots."

"Most of the space is set aside for cargo storage." Price said. "The working and living spaces of the ship are concentrated in the after section."

"_Majestic _left port fully loaded. I suppose that's a good thing. The bad guys can't use the empty cargo space to hide in if things go sour for them."

"Maybe not, Ding, but they could break into one or more of the containers and try to hide out until we gave up searching for them."

"True, but the way those things are usually packed onto the ship that only gives them a limited number of container entrances that they'd have access to. It's still a big number, but there aren't that many ways for the opposition to get to them. Still, whatever plan we come up with for hitting the ship we have to take that into consideration, and try to figure out how to find the enemy and take him down before he tries to exercise that option."

"So," Price said, "we have to find a way to hit a moving target on the sea hard and fast without anyone knowing about it."

"It'll definitely be a first for me." Chavez chuckled.

"Sounds like more of a job for our Special Boat Service," Price said, "or your SEALs."

"Right…so naturally they handed it to us. Y'know, Mr. C. was a SEAL way back when. I'll have to get his perspective on this when we get back."

Price nodded, then checked his watch. "I wish we could get there faster. By the time we touch down that ship is going to be well into open water. There'll be almost no place to stage and launch from."

"They were trying to work something out when we left. I'll check up on them." Chavez took out his cell phone and dialed the number for headquarters. "This is Chavez. Let me speak to the boss. John? Ding. We're in the air and we're working on a plan for resolving the situation. The thing is, our area of operations will soon be far enough away that inserting from land will be an iffy proposition…you did? Which one? And we can get to it from Singapore? That's good to know. Thanks, Mr. C." He hung up and turned to Price. "At least our staging area is no longer a problem. We just have one more flight after we land in Singapore."

"Then it's back to our original problem." Price said. "Catching the opposition by surprise."

"And for that we'll need better intelligence than we have now, mainly recon on-site. I wonder what Tim can come up with?" Chavez was referring to Tim Noonan, the FBI surveillance expert that accompanied the Rainbow teams to provide technical support.

"He has the same information we do." Price reasoned. "I'm sure he's already thinking about it. We just need to be ready when he figures it out. As to that, suppose we come in on the bow…"

They went on for about an hour, exchanging ideas. When Chavez finally had a pretty good idea of what to do, he laid it out for Price, saying that they'd finalize a plan once they got to their destination. After that, both men closed their laptops and settled in, trying to get as much rest as they could on the long overland flight.

* * *

The airplane touched down in Singapore without incident, and Chavez and his team were let off first, deplaning onto the tarmac. Transports were waiting to take them and their equipment away. A Singaporean officer in a Navy blue uniform met them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Major Chavez?" He said to Ding in English, extending his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Jhoto, Republic of Singapore Navy."

"Pleasure, Lieutenant." Chavez said as they shook hands. "You here to take us to see Colonel Rok?"

"Yes, Sir. We have a command center set up at the port, but the Colonel wanted to meet you here so that you could go directly to your next flight. We have a place to brief you set up in one of the charter offices, and there'll be a place for you to change and gear up as well."

"Then lead on, Lieutenant." Chavez said. Team Two followed Jhoto across the tarmac to one of the hangars that functioned as HQ's for charter services. There were no planes in the hangar at the moment, which probably meant the charter was doing brisk business. That most likely made it easier for the owner to lend the authorities his offices temporarily.

When they got inside, Chavez saw that the main office was full of Singaporean officers. Two more were from the Navy, and there was one from the Coast Guard and one more from the Police. There were also two civilians with them. The older Naval officer came over to Chavez and offered his hand.

"I'm Colonel Rok, RSN." The man said with a smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Domingo Chavez." Chavez said. After all these months with it, he still wasn't used to his functional rank. "Likewise, Colonel."

"Let me introduce you." Rok said after they shook hands. "You've met Lt. Jhoto, my aide. This is Captain Shin Sihn-Wah, my Chief of Staff. The 'Coastie' here is Lieutenant Trahn. He was there when the suspects took the tug and the ship. And Captain Minh is from the National Police. And these two men are crewman from the tug, Mr. Li Han-Hwan and Mr. Chan Kano."

"You're the ones that got off the tug when they were boarding the ship?" Chavez said as he shook hands with the civilians. "I'll want to talk to you about that." He gave the others in the room nods and introduced some of his people. "I have a cop with me as well. This is Tim Noonan, from the FBI," he said as Noonan stepped forward, "and this is Sgt. Eddie Price, my right- hand man."

Captain Shin spoke up when the intros were done. "Major Chavez, your clothes and equipment should be here shortly. Through that door over there is a hall that leads to the Pilots' Locker Room. You can change and gear up in there."

"Great." Chavez said, then turned to Team Two. "I'm gonna keep Price and Noonan with me. You guys hang out in the locker room till our stuff comes and we'll give you the latest when we come in." The rest of the team departed with a chorus of "Okay, Ding"s and Chavez and the others got down to business with the locals.

"Okay, first," he said, "what's the story on our hijacked ship?"

Rok led him over to a desk where a chart of the South China Sea was spread out. "The ship sped up after all the hijackers were aboard." He said, then pointed to an area in the Southern part of the sea. "The _Majestic_ is here, steaming North-Northeast at 18 knots. We have two of our frigates shadowing her, here and here. We don't think they've settled on a destination yet. They're probably just trying to put as much distance between themselves and the mainland as possible."

"We might have taken the ship if they'd stayed in port," Trahn said. "I'm sure they realized that and are trying to get into the Pacific to make things even harder."

"We don't have the type of Naval Infantry or Special Boat Forces that Western Navies have." Lt. Jhoto said.

"These guys were drug smugglers?" Tim Noonan said.

"That's right," Captain Minh said, "but from the way they took the two vessels we suspect that one or more of them were terrorists that had been run to ground by the War on Terror."

"That makes sense." Price said. "Any of the terrorists that escaped America's campaign could resurface anywhere."

"Typical bad pennies." Chavez said, then turned to the civilians. "What can you tell us about them?"

Chan looked at Li, who spoke for both of them. "Kano does not speak English that well. We were pushing the ship into the harbor when this pleasure boat came up on our stern. When they did not answer our radio calls our captain had us go out and yell at them to back off. Before we could get onto the deck they were jumping onto it and assaulting the tug."

"Did you manage to get a good look at them?" Noonan said. "Could you tell their nationalities?"

"The two that held us were Arabs," Li said, "and maybe others were as well. They isolated the crew as quickly as possible when they came aboard, so things were happening too quickly to place all of them."

"What kind of weapons were they carrying?" Price said.

"American and Russian weapons." Li said.

"We saw AK-74 assault rifles and an American M-16." Trahn said.

"Plus, from the descriptions Mr. Li and Mr. Chan gave us, they may also have standard AK-47s and Western-made handguns." Captain Minh said.

"So, you've got at least a few that are probably experienced in taking hostages," Chavez said. "How many of them would likely be able to keep control of moving ship full hostages on the open sea."

"I doubt they would have tried it if there wasn't at least one real 'pirate' among them." Captain Shin said. "Piracy is as big a problem in our waters as drug smuggling, and even if none of them had any practical experience, in their 'line of work' they're bound to have had contact with people who could have told them the finer points."

Conversation stopped for a moment as the airport truck with Rainbow's equipment pulled into the hangar. "We'd better get set up." Chavez said. "One more thing: Where's our staging platform?"

Shin pointed to another spot on the chart. "Right here, keeping watch from long range."

"Very good. All right, thanks, gentleman. Tim, Eddie, let's get the guys and break out the stuff."

Later, while they were changing into black BDUs, Chavez put the question to Noonan. "Tim, any ideas on how to bug that boat?"

Noonan chuckled as he secured his flak vest. "You're kidding, right?"

"Only half." Chavez said. "Tell me why you can't."

"Oh, I could…if you could arrange for the hijackers to let me aboard for about twenty minutes so that I could secure the mikes and cameras and hook them up to the ship's transceiver so we'd get usable signals. Or, you could rappel me from a helicopter so I could secure them from the outside—assuming the rolling of the ship or the swinging of the rope line didn't slam me against the hull and knock me out—and I could maybe attach a camera to the bridge windows, but not without somebody noticing, which would cause the bad guys to move everybody to a part of the ship that's completely obscured. And of course, while all that's going on, the mikes I attach on the outside would be picking up lovely things like the sounds of the rolling ocean, the creaking of the hull, the squeaking of the chains and cargo, the rush of the wind…"

"Okay, I get it! I get it!" Chavez said, with a chuckle.

"Seriously, Ding," Noonan said, "I don't know why you brought me along at all."

"Well, obviously he thinks you are good luck, Tim!" Louis Loiselle called out, eliciting a few laughs.

"It's them pretty-boy FBI Agent looks, Tim!" Julio Vega said as he secured his web belt. "He figures if we screw up, we'll throw you in front of the news cameras while we sneak out the back way." Everyone broke up at that one.

"Knock it off, guys." Chavez said, even as his smile lingered. "Look, Tim, we're all gonna have to think 'outside the box' on this one. You're sure there's nothing we can do to get some on-site intel?"

Noonan thought about it for a minute. "Where we're going…you think they have some video equipment and some steady hands at the lens?"

"It's likely." Chavez said.

"Then maybe I can get you some pictures of the bridge, maybe a few other decks. That's the best I can do."

Chavez smiled. "I believe you, and that's why I keep you around. Okay, everybody listen up! Basic loadout: suppressed MP-10's, Glock pistols, flash-bangs. Take the usual number of spare clips. That goes for you too, 'Oso'. We probably won't need a SAW on this one. Homer, Dieter, you guys are our reserve. We're just gonna have to find a way to get you on the high ground."

"Speaking of high ground," Price said, "I wonder what type of transport they sent to pick us up?"

"Well, they got twenty or thirty planes, right?" Chavez said. "Given our international stature they obviously sent one of the 'Cadillacs'."

* * *

On the flight line later, Chavez corrected himself. "I was wrong. They sent a 'DeSoto'."

Team Two, Rainbow trotted toward their ride as their spare equipment was rolled aboard. The two rotors of the MH-47 Chinook were already turning , kicking up a small windstorm around the military aircraft. The team ran up the rear ramp with their heads bowed and their hands holding their helmets in place. Chavez was the last aboard, and was met by the loadmaster at the top of the ramp and given a radio headset.

"You Chavez?" The man asked. Chavez nodded, and the man saluted. "Sgt. Sooner. Welcome aboard Marine Air, Sir. We can be there in about twenty minutes. I just need to get all of you strapped in."

"Then let's get that done, Sergeant." Chavez said, and walked into the cavernous interior as the loadmaster closed the ramp. A minute later, the Chinook lifted off into the sky.


	4. Recon

**Disclaimer:** _"Rainbow Six" and all related characters are the sole property of Rubicon, Inc. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. All original characters and situations are the sole property of the author and may not be used or archived without express permission._

**Rainbow Six:**

**SPECWAR**

**by Darrin Colbourne**

"Major Chavez?" Sgt. Sooner called out to Ding as he tapped his shoulder. "We're almost there! Did you want to take a look?"

"Sure!" Ding said, then carefully unstrapped and let the Marine lead him to the Chinook's "Front Office". The two men reached the cockpit and the Sergeant let Chavez go forward and brace himself behind the flight crew. The helicopter was angling downward, giving a good view of the surface of the ocean and their destination.

"There she is!" Sooner said, pointing over Chavez's shoulder. "The _Bonhomme Richard!_"

Chavez took a good look. The _Wasp_-class Amphibious warship looked anachronistic when compared to giant modern carriers or their sleek, fast escorts. _Bonhomme Richard_ was more reminiscent of the carriers of the Pacific Campaign, a straight, boxy flattop that looked as if she should be protected by massive battlewagons and scores of smaller gunships. Of course, the ship wasn't really a carrier. She was a Landing Platform (Helicopter), one of the major assets of The 'Gator Navy, capable of carrying a Marine Air-Ground Task Force, consisting of a battalion of ground troops and their vehicles as well as a wing of various helicopters and a small squadron of Harrier STOVL attack jets. _Richard_ was the lead ship of a three-ship Amphibious Ready Group, which had been on its way to a port-of-call in the Philippines when the South China Sea crisis developed.

"Always good to be home!" Sooner said, with genuine feeling. "We'll be touching down in a couple minutes. Let's get you strapped back in."

The Chinook touched down gracefully, and Team Two, Rainbow disembarked. _Richard_'s flight deck wasn't as noisy as Chavez had expected a carrier's deck to be, but his ears were still strained even through the hearing protection he was wearing. Two Harriers were spotted on the bow, revving up for a launch. There were no catapults. The planes took a short run off the deck and angled away. On another part of the deck, two AH-1Z Super Cobra attack helicopters were spooling up for launch, their rotors turning faster and faster till they lifted smoothly off the non-skid blacktop.

A deck officer led the team into the ship's "Island", where they were met by a Marine Lieutenant. He and Chavez shook hands as he spoke. "I'm Lieutenant Warden. Welcome aboard the _Bonhomme Richard_, Gentlemen."

"Pleasure to be aboard." Chavez said.

"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to Command." Team Two fell into step as Warden took them through the close corridors of the vessel. Soon they found themselves in the Battle Management Center, _Richard_'s nerve center. The computer console and display filled space was where any amphibious landing would be planned and directed from.

Chavez was brought over to the map table, where the ship's Commanding Officers were standing. One was a tall, rangy Marine Bird-Colonel, and the other was a big, broad-bodied Black Navy Captain. The Captain made the introductions.

"Good to meet you, Major Chavez." The man's voice rumbled. "I'm Captain Franklin Hiller, _Richard_'s CO. This is my 'business partner', Colonel Mack Shepherd, CO of the 24th MEU (SOC)."

"Pleasure, Sirs." Chavez said as he shook hands and appraised the pair. The red tint to Shepherd's hair showed through even his "High and Tight" buzz cut, while even with a broad smile on his face Hiller still looked like the Nose Tackle of every quarterback's nightmares. "So, where do we stand?"

"Take a look here." Hiller said, as he indicated the map table. "_Majestic_ is still steady on course and speed into the South China Sea. The Singaporeans are shadowing them with a frigate on each flank. We're here, paralleling the container ship's course and matching her speed. None of the ships are very close. The idea is not to spook them into maneuvering wildly or killing any hostages."

"We're also tracking them using our Air Wing." Shepherd said. "Two Harriers on station here and two Cobras on station here. The birds are armed with the new Sea Hellfire missiles."

Chavez cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think we'll need to sink the ship, Sir."

Hiller chuckled. "Not our intention, but we thought we'd take the opportunity to do some cross-training. This is turning into a pretty interesting Sea Control exercise."

"Don't worry." Shepherd said. "Weapons are tight. We're just using them to keep tabs on the sea chase from long range. Now, we've got orders to render any assistance we can to help your mission succeed. Will you be needing any more shooters? I've got plenty of able-bodied Marines aboard that'd be glad to help."

"Shooters, no, but I may want to borrow a couple of your birds. We'll need to paint over their markings before we use them."

"I think we can manage that. What else?"

Tim Noonan spoke up. "Do you have any Combat Correspondents aboard? With some high quality video equipment?"

* * *

Peshawar scanned what he could see of the horizon from inside the bridge of the cargo ship. He was using binoculars he'd taken from the Captain, who was now standing in an empty corner of the bridge, being watched over by one of Peshawar's men, an Afghan named Khalil. The only other person in the space was the helmsman, who was doing his best to hold the ship's course and speed without thinking of the gun-toting criminals who'd taken over the _Majestic_. Two more of the hijackers had a skeleton crew captive in the Engineering space, while the rest of the hostages were being held in the Mess Hall. Several of them had various bumps and bruises, some received for active resistance, but most because the hijackers wanted to establish from the outset who was boss.

Though there were no vessels or aircraft within his line of sight, Peshawar expected them to be out there, shadowing from a discreet distance, maybe even from over-the-horizon. He knew he could get a better view if he went out onto one of the bridge wings, but was reluctant to take the risk, feeling safer behind the steel of the hull. He was content to play the same waiting game the Singaporeans seemed to be playing. No one had made a move to contact him yet, and he had no intention of trying to call them. His only real demand was to be given a wide berth, which they were already providing. If he could get this ship to a safe port, or at least find a way to get himself lost in the ocean, he'd be a hero back home, for having stolen millions of dollars worth of property from the hands of greedy, decadent Westerners.

He took one more scan of the sea in front of the ship and noticed something in the sky. It was just a dark speck in the lens of the binoculars, but turning their magnification up to full he could make out the shape of a helicopter. It looked like an American design, but in a world where the Great Satan peddled its wares to anyone with hard currency that didn't mean much. Peshawar felt justified in not leaving the safety of the bridge. The people aboard that chopper could have anything pointed right at him.

"Khalil," he said in Arabic, "take the Captain to his quarters and hold him there." Khalil moved to comply roughly as Peshawar got very close to the helmsman, assault rifle at the ready.

* * *

They'd gotten the MH-60 Blackhawk painted in record time with a fresh coat of black paint and had it dried with heat lamps and on the deck as they worked on others. The bird lifted off the deck with Tim Noonan aboard, accompanied by Staff Sergeant Nicholas Ford, a Marine Corps Combat Correspondent covering the _Bonhomme Richard'_s deployment for _Leatherneck_. They'd brought with them a large portable video camera from the ship's studio and a monitor to feed the image to. The camera mounted a state-of- the-art telephoto lens and was incredibly steady in the right hands.

The pilot flew a roundabout course to the ship, and ultimately brought the Blackhawk into a hover a thousand yards from the _Majestic_'s bow. Ford worked the camera, getting comfortable on the deck of the chopper and aiming the lens out the open door, while Noonan monitored the feed.

"Looks like two bad guys on the bridge," Noonan said as Ford panned the bridge windows, "plus two of the crew visible. Old guy must be the skipper. One guy scouting with binoculars. Probably wondering where…wait, I think he sees us. Turning to the other bad guy…now the other guy's lugging the skipper off the bridge. Maybe the scout's the leader? Keep on his face, Nick."

"I got him." Ford said.

"He's moving closer to the other hostage…yeah, he definitely knows we're watching. I think he's hinting we should back off. Try and get clear footage of his face, then start on the other windows."

"Gotcha." Ford said. The target certainly looked like an Arab, with dark, gaunt features. When he thought they had enough footage of him, Ford panned all the windows that were not obscured by containers.

"Looks like those parts of the ship are blacked out." Ford said. "They must be keeping the bulk of the hostages in closed-off areas of the ship."

"Makes sense." Noonan said. "Let's check topside."

Ford panned the camera around _Majestic_'s deck, slowly and methodically, paying close attention to any spaces or gaps around the containers. "Not that many places to hide," Ford said as he worked, "and those places all seem to be empty. Everybody must be inside the superstructure. So the good news is you've got a relatively clear field of advance from the bow aft…"

"With the bad news being that it leads right to the most defensible part of the ship, where all the bad guys have set up shop." Noonan said. "Okay. We've at least confirmed most of the stuff we already knew. Let's pack up and head back. Pilot, we're done here. Let me borrow the radio."

* * *

Peshawar was standing directly behind the helmsman, holding his rifle up in one hand and holding the binoculars up with the other. He watched patiently until the chopper nosed-down and flew off, staying well away from the ship as it returned to wherever it came from. The terrorist took its arrival and departure philosophically. At least now he knew what the Singaporeans were waiting for.

"Public Address." He said in English to the hostage. The helmsman showed him the right console and Peshawar went over and turned it on. He made his announcement in accented German.

"This is Hahmed. They are going to try and retake the ship soon. Be ready."

* * *

"They're buttoned up in the ship for sure, Ding!" Noonan's voice announced in the Battle Management Center. "any other area of the ship visible from the outside is blacked out and abandoned."

"What about the guy you saw on the bridge?" Chavez called back. "Did you get a good look at him?"

"We got him live on videotape!" Noonan said. "He had his binoculars up most of the time, but we did get some seconds of his face!"

"Can we get hard images from the tape?" Chavez asked Hiller. "And would I be able to fax it back to my HQ? I have someone there that may be able to identify this guy."

"Yes on both counts." Hiller said.

"Okay. Get back as soon as you can, Tim!"

"We're running flat out now, Ding!" Noonan said, then the pilot signed off.

"Okay," Chavez said as he examined the schematic of the _Majestic_. "I'm guessing they don't need a lot of people to run the ship for 'em."

"It's best to have a Navigator along with the helmsman on the bridge," Hiller said, "but the reason container ships have such small crews in the first place is that they're built to be run by a relative few watchstanders at a time."

"Then it's likely they'll be keeping most of the hostages in one big space of the ship, one that's completely out of view from the outside. Maybe the Infirmary, the Mess Hall or Engineering."

"Probably not engineering." Hiller said. "Most of that space is taken up by the big diesels. Too many places to hide or police. Bet on the Mess Hall. A couple of gunmen can keep the whole place under control from the entrances."

"They're also likely to keep a watch for any attack from the bridge from this point on." Shepherd added. "That means you'll have to neutralize any terrorists there first, before they can get a warning to their boss."

Chavez nodded in agreement, then his head cocked as he looked at the schematic again. "I think I know how to do that. You ever see _True Lies_?"

Shepherd looked at him curiously. "Yeah…what about it?"

Chavez's answer was cryptic. "You'll see. I'm going to need to borrow a few more of your assets, Colonel. I think I've got a way to take these guys down. It'll be a true Search and Rescue mission once we get aboard, but at least now I don't think getting aboard will be our biggest problem."


	5. Takedown

**Disclaimer:** _"Rainbow Six" and all related characters are the sole property of Rubicon, Inc. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. All original characters and situations are the sole property of the author and may not be used or archived without express permission._

**Rainbow Six:**

**SPECWAR**

**by Darrin Colbourne**

Chavez laid out his plan in a briefing that included Team Two, Rainbow, Captain Hiller, Colonel Shepherd and several Marine pilots in a squadron briefing room. "Something like this is going to take split-second timing," He was saying, "but I think we can do it. When we go will depend on the information we get back from David Peled and Dr. Bellow, but I'm hoping we can wait until after dark. In the meantime we can do some dry runs using the _Richard_ as the training field. Any questions?"

There were several, but Chavez had been expecting that, and after twenty minutes of give and take his idea was refined into a true operations plan. Drills began immediately afterwards. Hiller suspended normal flight operations to clear the field for the pilots and aircraft that would be supporting Chavez.

The call from Hereford came in the middle of the third run-through. Chavez ran straight from the flight deck to the ship's communications room, and took it while still in his full field gear.

"I've got David and Paul in here with me," John Clark's voice said, "and they've got the information you asked for." Chavez could tell from the sound that his father-in-law was using the speakerphone in his office.

"Ding, your man's name is Hahmed Peshawar," David Peled said. "Libyan. Old hand. Cut his teeth in Khaddafi's Army, and has been linked to Intifadeh and Al Qaeda. He's one of the big ones that got away a couple years ago, went to ground and got lost. Suspected as having a part in planning several terrorist attacks in and around the Middle East and Europe. The Singaporeans want him for suspected drug running and piracy."

"What do you make of him, Doc?" Chavez asked Rainbow's resident psychologist.

"He's one of the smart ones, Ding." Dr. Bellow said. "Patient, focused and ruthless. He's an Extremist success story, willing to wait as long as it takes or do anything it takes to get his point across."

"And if all he wants is to get this ship to a safe port?"

"He'll brazen it out for as long as he can, hoping that the tactical situation will scare you off or force you to do something reckless. He knows how big the Pacific is, and all the safe ports he can choose from. If he gets into the open ocean, he'll think he's got it made. Right now, he's got nothing but time."

"That may be true, but right now time works for us, too."

"You've got a plan for going in?" Clark said.

Chavez explained. "It's going to be complex, I know, but if we pull it off I can't see a faster way of getting the element of surprise on our side."

"Gonna need some crazy pilots." Clark said.

"Luckily, there's no shortage of 'em in the Marines!" Chavez said with a chuckle. "Besides, if the Doc's right, he's not likely to go nuts and start threatening his bargaining chips. The way I read it that gives us plenty of time to drill."

"Drill hard, son. Mission approved. Good luck, and I'll see you when you get back." With that the line cut out

With that done, Chavez felt confident with his decision. They'd wait till nightfall, giving the bad guys a chance to get confident and bored. It would also make his planned "diversion" that much more effective.

* * *

Khalil found himself on the bridge again for the night watch. With him were the ship's navigator and another hijacker, a Tamil named Sinhjal. The navigator had been told to hold course out to sea and that a destination would be given to him in the morning. He was hoping for a miracle before then. He could only imagine what horrors would be awaiting the collection of Brits and Scots aboard if the terrorists made it to their chosen port of call.

* * *

As the navigator wondered about his fate, Marine Major Frederick Mann guided his AV-8B Harrier attack jet skillfully through the evening sky, making his way low over the dark water of the Pacific. Commander of the detachment of Harriers aboard _Bonhomme Richard_, his skill and flying hours made him a natural for this assignment.

And a strange assignment it was. He wasn't sure who this Chavez really was but he was sure of one thing: The "Major" had seen way too many movies. The "Arnold Schwartzenegger" crap he was about to attempt belonged in a special effects shop, not using real equipment on the open ocean. It was more of a flying stunt than an actual combat exercise, and a million things could go wrong.

Still, they'd run through the whole attack plan over and over, drilling it like crazy over the past several hours. For his part, he'd probably given _Richard_'s bridge crew no end of heart attacks (a sea story he'd enjoy telling in the coming weeks), but he'd finally figured out a way to pull it off. It would all depend on the approach, which he would conduct like a landing. Approach, stop short and go vertical, descend. He just had to remember not to stop too short and not actually land. Sure.

He checked his position, made an adjustment and pulled up. The low-and-slow approach hadn't really been necessary against a ship without Air Search radars, but _Richard_'s Navy Skipper had wanted to get some ASUW training in. Now he was fully into the mission profile. Hopefully, the four Black Hawks detailed to the mission were in position and ready to follow him in.

He checked his position again, made his final turn and mentally crossed his fingers. Now it was all a matter of algebra and trigonometry, all angles and distances and, above all, timing. A landing approach that was also part intercept. Mann turned on his anti-collision radar and started looking for the cargo ship's wake. It was a minute or two before he spotted it, and used it to judge his approach. He seemed to be right in line.

He cut his speed in increments and descended as he got nearer. The cargo ship kept getting bigger and bigger, until he could make out individual containers on its deck. By this point he was almost at landing speed. When the ship was under him he rotated the thrust nozzles down and lowered his flaps to bleed off forward motion and increase lift. A slight adjustment allowed him to yaw right and face aft. After that, all he had to do was drop a little and let the ship's momentum do the rest.

* * *

The first sign Khalil and Sinhjal had that there was trouble was the sound of an approaching jet. The sound was loud, as if an airliner were skimming the wave tops coming straight at them. Sinhjal grabbed the navigator by the arm and held his weapon ready while Khalil looked out of the bridge windows. The sound of jet engines started to rattle them as it got louder.

Then Khalil couldn't believe what he saw! A Harrier fighter jet descended from nowhere, trying to land on the containers on deck - WITHOUT landing gear! His eyes went wide when he saw it stop and hover, then went wider when he realized it was getting closer to the bridge, nose pointed straight into the windows!

"BUGGER!" The navigator yelled as he broke Sinhjal's grip and hit the deck. The two terrorists followed him down.

* * *

_Perfect!_ Mann thought as he watched the bad guys and hostage dive for the deck and armed his 25 mm cannon. He gunned his engines and fired a short burst, shattering the four center windows and hitting nothing - hopefully - but bulkheads in empty upper decks.

* * *

With the windows smashed the noise of the jet became unbearable, and some of the heat of the exhaust made it inside. The Harrier gained altitude quickly and disappeared, but not before the men on the bridge had been partially deafened, singed and cut up by flying glass. They recovered quickly enough, and Khalil and Sinhjal picked themselves up and shook themselves off. Stunned as they were by the events of the past few seconds, they almost failed to register the fact that there was more noise rattling the windows that were left.

* * *

By the time they spotted the two helicopters making it, Team Two's sharpshooters had them both zeroed in.

"Target!" Homer Johnston said from his Black Hawk.

"Target!" Dieter Weber said from his Black Hawk.

"Take 'em!" Chavez radioed to them both.

Two rounds were fired, two targets went down, and Chavez could be reasonably sure that they hadn't been able to shout a warning to their boss.

* * *

That unfortunately didn't mean he had no warning. The sounds of the battle that had just taken place had resounded throughout the container ship's superstructure, waking Hahmed Peshawar from the catnap he'd been catching in a bunk on one of the lower decks. He raced out of the small berth, rifle in hand.

* * *

The navigator watched in amazement as four men rappelled in through the windowless ports now airing out the bridge. "Hit the deck, Monsieur!" One of them yelled at him in French-accented English. He complied immediately, planting his body firmly on the deck a second time. Just then two sharp reports announced the opening of the bridge wing doors. Two men came in each side, then all of them swept their submachine guns around the space once. "Clear!" Someone sounded.

"Teams!" Another said. "Louis, you got the bridge!" This one sounded American.

"Oui, Monsieur!" The Frenchman said. "Two bad guys down!" He was pointing his weapon at one of the dead hijackers.

"Good! Let's go, people!" The American said, then led five others off the bridge.

As they left, the navigator tried to stop the ringing in his ears and contemplate this new situation. Not exactly the type of miracle he'd been expecting…

* * *

Chavez had taken point, leading from the front in the literal sense. Team Two would split up into teams of two as they went. Paddy Connolly and Julio Vega would hit the Mess Hall, and George Tomlinson and Scotty McTyler would hit Engineering. Chavez and Eddie Price were providing security along the way, and would sweep the ship once the other teams were at their destinations.

* * *

Peshawar cursed a blue streak all the way down from his stolen berth. It had to be Americans! Always the Americans! With their SEALs and their Marines and their Special Forces and their general nosiness! They'd gotten much worse over the past year or so. The terrorist had a hard time trying to figure out how a people that got so weepy over losing a couple of tall buildings could manage to be such a major pain in the ass to people with _real_ problems!

He really wished he had radios to communicate with his people. He should have broken some out of the ship's stores as soon as they'd boarded, but there hadn't been time. With enemy troops running around now, the ship's internal communications couldn't be trusted. He was running as hard as he could to the Engineering section, intent on getting everybody moved to the Mess Hall and trying to coordinate some sort of defense. He hoped the two men whom he left with the hostages there were smart enough to stay locked in the space, with their guns trained on the prisoners.

* * *

Unfortunately, one's curiosity got the better of him. The Singaporean was a small time runner, not used to the situation the Libyan had gotten them into. He told his partner to stay with the hostages, then left the Mess Hall to see what all the noise was about. He walked out of the space, then strode purposefully down the corridor.

He'd just rounded the first corner when three rounds from a suppressed MP-10 dropped him.

* * *

Chavez and the others were double-timing it through the ship. They rushed around the corner, and were surprised to see that a door had been left open. Chavez tossed a flash-bang in on the run, stunning the hostages and the fourth hijacker. Connolly and Vega took him out as soon as they entered the Mess Hall.

"Clear!" Vega called after Chavez and the others as they disappeared deeper into the ship.

* * *

"We have to get to the Mess Hall!" Peshawar yelled into Engineering to his last man. There were two other hostages here, standing watch on the ship's diesels. Peshawar's man gathered them up and pushed them out of the space. Each hijacker took one in a headlock and began the long march back to the Mess Hall.

* * *

Team Two raced through the corridors single-file, Chavez on point. Each second of time ticked away in his mind as he wondered what was happening in the Engineering space. Hopefully, they could take whoever was there by surprise the same way they'd been doing since they got aboard.

Just as he had that thought, Peshawar emerged from a corner.

Rainbow ducked as the hijacker fired a burst from his rifle in their direction and backed up. Chavez and his team took off in pursuit. The hijackers dragged their hostages along as they ran, trying to make their way back to the defensible Engineering space. Team Two held its fire as they tried to keep the bad guys in sight.

Then Chavez tried a desperation move. He warned his people to be ready and then tossed a flash-bang ahead of the fleeing group. The stun grenade went off, knocking the hijackers and the hostages off their feet. As Chavez hoped, the hijackers recovered first, and were standing before they had a good grip on their hostages.

It was the opening Rainbow needed. Bursts of 9mm ammo slammed into the two criminals' heads, dropping them to the deck.

Tomlinson and McTyler took the hijackers' weapons as Chavez and Price checked on the hostages. Bad guys were down, hostages were dazed and unhurt. Chavez had the two men stand aside in the corridor, then he and Price went off to do their sweep, leaving the others to secure the area.

* * *

Ten minutes later the majority of the hostages were gathered on deck while a normal watch was on the bridge, steering the ship back towards Singapore. The two bodies on the bridge had been cleared off to give them room to work. Team Two, Rainbow, was staying aboard to coordinate with the Singaporean Coast Guard when their patrol boats met the ship. Chavez had already reported back to the command post ashore and the _Bonhomme Richard_, and was now talking via secure phone link with Hereford.

"Sounds like it was a real…different exercise." Clark was saying.

"It was." Chavez said. "It wasn't exactly textbook, but it got the job done."

"Understatement of the year." Clark said. "And I would have loved to have seen their faces when the Harrier almost parked on the bridge!"

"I hear their eyes looked like dinner plates!" Chavez said with a smile.

"Hope you got pictures. Meantime, we'll talk about the highs and lows of the mission when you get back." With that, Clark clicked off.

Chavez was still smiling when he turned off the phone. Not exactly textbook, and he was sure he'd hear all the things he did wrong in the debrief back at HQ, but with none of his guys or any of the hostages dead and with all the bad guys gone, he had to say the mission was a success. He took pride in that fact as he looked out of the bridge window and into the night sky.

It had been a satisfying day.

* * *

**Final Author's Note:** To all you Marine Corps Harrier Aviators out there; yes, I might have fudged the AV-8B's flight dynamics a smidge, but it was a scene I just had to do.


End file.
